A Friend First Sherlock Holmes
by Jael73
Summary: Enough slash and Irene, already! How would Sherlock Holmes react to a woman that he could actually think of as a friend? Based on Jeremy Brett, of course! M rating for suggestions of abuse, and sexual content in later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

Sherlock Holmes sat in his study, perusing the latest monograph on the flesh-eating habits of beetles by the biologist A.G. Reed. Holmes was fascinated. The scientist, Reed, seem to be of a similar breed as himself: methodical, observant, and able to put together disparate pieces of information into an informative whole.

Holmes had good reason for reading work quite outside his normal pursuits: the monograph claimed to be able to tell exactly how long a cadaver had been dead by the size of the beetle larva found eating its flesh. And that is exactly how Scotland Yard how found a body not two days ago.

Watson, though married for six months now, still called him on occasion to examine a body when his medical expertise fell short of the knowledge necessary to make such determinations. Luckily, Holmes had heard of Dr. Reed's work, and they were now scheduled to meet with said doctor at 2pm.

Holmes finished the monograph, and laid it down beside him on a little table, lost in thought. But not long afterwards did Holmes begin to frown, looking around the room. The house felt empty without Watson's more vivacious presence. And Holmes did have to admit that Watson had made for an excellent study of human foibles. While Watson possessed a formidable mind (to which he ofen thought less of being next to Holmes, of which Holmes had told him time and time again was lunacy), he did display a number of commonalties of the emotional sort with the rest of humanity, for which Holmes silently cursed him for. This need to be loved, Holmes thought to himself, was a failing of the human race.

No, he stopped himself. Mary Watson nee Marston was an excellent woman, and Watson deserved such a wife. But their love was based on nothing else than that – love. While Mary herself was no simpleton, she was in no way Watson's intellectual equal. And for that, Holmes was amazed that Watson would even consider such a marriage.

And the dinner parties! The Watsons, now a blissfully happy couple, had invited him to numerous dinner parties. Holmes had consented to only a few of them, if only out of curiosity. On the second occasion, Holmes concluded that the Watsons were actively engaged in matchmaking: allowing for the social convention of each guest requiring a dinner "partner", the Watsons had gone to great pains to find a charming companion for Holmes. Of course, this was made somewhat difficult in that Dr. Watson himself, though by Holmes own admission his best friend, had no idea what type of woman would interest Holmes in more than an academic manner. The only woman Holmes had ever shown any personal interest in was Miss Irene Adler, and that relationship was more of fascination of her skills of deception than actual feelings of a softer nature.

Holmes was no lover of men. Watson knew that to be a fact by a few conversations while Holmes was under the influence of his seven-percent solution of cocaine. And yet Holmes seemed to have an aversion to displaying any of the more passionate feelings in front of a woman that John Watson knew very well his friend had in full measure. Watson had pondered this line of thought with Mary on several occasions.

"Could it be trust?" Watson asked Mary, somewhat rhetorically, the day before they were to meet with Dr. Reed. "His brother Mycroft is unmarried, and older still. Holmes has never spoken much about his family…."

"Could it not simply be that he has never met the right woman?" May said, gently. "As you've told me, he seems not to be unaware of beauty, or that women are truly people, as some men are. He pretends to find them inexplicable, as if they were of another species!"

"Quite so. I wonder if there is a woman out there that Holmes might see as a person first, and a woman second."

It was this conversation that Watson was recalling as he exited the carriage that had carried him to 221B Baker Street, and the home of his old friend. Watson was sure Mary had the right of it. Though Holmes was hardly a recluse, his life since his University years would not exactly bring him into the company of many women. And Watson was more certain than ever that Holmes needed a wife. Happily married couples always thought so. And Mrs. Hudson could hardly be stimulating company for his brilliant friend!

It was 1:30. Watson rang the bell, and Mrs. Hudson showed him into Holmes' study.

"Ah, Watson! You have left little time. Did you bring the samples?" Watson pointed to his black medical bag, which in this case held a jar of larve specimens that Inspector Lestrade had allowed him to take from the body. He looked Holmes over. "Good to see you, Holmes my friend."

"Yes, it is. Let us be off to the offices of Dr. Reed, then. I have the address here," Holmes announced, placing a piece of paper in his breast pocket and grabbing his top hat.

Holmes filled Watson in on Dr. Reed's work as the cabbie drove to the south side of London. Watson was interested, if a little put off by Holmes' description of Dr. Reed's experiments. As a medical man, Watson preferred the living to the dead. But at least his friend was in better spirits than of late. Watson had been somewhat surprised at Holmes' second and third acceptance of their dinner party invitations. Only later, after some contemplation, did Watson come to the inevitable conclusion: Sherlock Holmes was lonely.

After a little more than a half an hour, the cab finally stopped at one large brick building. Holmes gazed at the building with interest before advancing towards the enterence. He admitted to himself that he had been expecting the address to take him to an office block, the type where professionals entertained the public with their services. This building was more of the house nature, though unattached. He turned to his friend and said simply, "Come, Watson."

The door was opened by a male servant. "Sherlock Holmes and Dr. John Watson for Dr. Reed." Holmes said directly to him, as the man was nearly Holmes' height.

The doorman's eyes spoke of a controlled power that was belayed by the butler's uniform. This man, Holmes concluded, could be dangerous. "Yes, you are expected. Please, this way, gentlemen," the man said in a light Scottish accent.

As they entered, a maid stepped up to take their hats and canes. The man then led Holmes and Watson across the house and into a room whose contents nearly made Holmes and Watson gasp. With a 20 foot ceiling, the walls were lined with books. It was one of the best personal libraries Holmes had ever seen.

A woman turned in a chair as they entered. In her early thirties, Holmes estimated, and she had once been beautiful. Most would no longer see that, however, instead being put off by her blank facial expression and short cut hair. Watson even lowered his eyes at this. It seemed so immodest! Holmes' eyes twinkled, and his mouth quirked in the manner that Watson knew meant his friend was amused at his reaction.

"Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson, Madam," the butler stated, but made no motion to leave. Holmes noted the almost imperceptible communication between the woman and the butler, and realized that this man was no butler, but a bodyguard.

"Thank you, Roger," the woman said simply. That was obviously a signal that he could leave. He did, but not without making eye contact with Holmes once more.

"We were expecting to speak to Dr. A.G. Reed," Holmes spoke up as the door closed.

"I am A.G. Reed," she stated flatly, clearly having had to say that before. "Good afternoon, Mr. Holmes. Hello, Doctor."

Holmes' eyebrows raised a fraction, and turned to his friend. The more familiar greeting implied that she knew the good doctor.

Watson's face changed in a flash from puzzlement to recognition. "Not Ava Grace?"

Holmes' keen eyes caught that the woman blushed slightly at her name.

"Yes, it has been awhile," she said without explanation.

"I'm sorry that I did rec- recall the name immediately," Watson caught himself from saying "recognized". "I'm very glad to see you again." He paused, as she did not continue. "I take it that it is your work we have come to utilize today?"

"Yes. I completed doctoral work in medicine and biology after….we met last. Do you have the larvae sample?"

"Yes, yes of course." Watson pulled himself together. He lifted his black bag to a table and opened it, bringing out the jar of larvae.

"I have read your monograph on cigar ash, Mr. Holmes," Ava said as she turned to place the jar on another small table, examining the larvae closely.

While her back was turned, Holmes looked at Watson quizzically. Watson shook his head sharply, implying that he would explain later, and not to mention anything more about it to Ava.

"The study of larva is somewhat similar, in that it takes time, and nothing can rush the process." She looked back at the men. "It will take several weeks for the larvae to mature, providing me with an exact time they were lain. I will contact you when that happens."

"Of course." Holmes replied crisply. To anyone else, Ava's unemotional demeanor would border on rude. But Holmes had no requirement for women to "act womanly" – while he was always a perfect gentlemen, the illogical behavior of women had always made him nervous, particularly because they just might break out and start crying or try to hug him at any moment. Ava's manner was much more straight forward, even if Holmes had no idea why she was not like others of her sex, and actually put him at ease. He turned towards the door, accepting the dismissal.

Dr. Watson, however, offered her his hand. "I am very glad to see that you are well," he said to her quietly.

Something like an emotion passed across her eyes. "I thank you, doctor. I hope to see you again when I have the results." She looked over Holmes with his hand on the doorknob. "Good afternoon, Mr. Holmes."

"Good afternoon, Dr. Reed." Holmes looked at her directly, a thing he vary rarely did with women. Ava Reed commanded a certain respect that Holmes was quite willing to give.

They were both silent for some time as the cabbie took them back to Baker Street. Finally, Watson asked, "Do you remember the satanic gang exposed about fifteen years ago?"

Holmes pondered for a moment. "I was consulted briefly, as I recall. One of the few cases I had no satisfactory conclusion. There was no evidence to analyze. The girl could not identify her attackers – " Holmes turned his head towards Watson sharply. "The girl-"

"Was Ava Grace Reed." Watson nodded his head heavily. "I was working the shift she was brought in. She had been left for dead. Most of her injuries, however, were – " Watson paused. "I'm afraid, Holmes, that I am uncomfortable explaining more."

Holmes' observations of Dr. Reed now coalesced. He grew deathly quiet. "I believe I understand, Watson. No need to go further."

Watson paused, looking out the cab. "The worst that I have ever seen. Ghastly, sadistic…." Watson's voice cracked with emotion. He took a breath. "Her attackers were never found. She dropped out of society, and eventually out of the news. We are unusually cruel to those that have been --- suffered such injuries."

"Yes, I understand perfectly." Holmes stopped his friend's remembrance. "And now I understand her, perhaps, somewhat unlady-like behavior. Society has told her that she is no longer truly a woman, yet it is that same society that will not allow her to act like a man. She has no place, save the one that she has carved for herself." Holmes bent his head in thought.

They mentioned Ava no further as the cab reached Baker Street, letting Sherlock Holmes off and continuing to the Watson home.


	2. Fright

Watson heard nothing from his friend for several days. During the weekend he received a letter from Holmes asking for his help in a case "requiring some delicacy." Watson could only think that Holmes wanted more information about Ava, although that seemed most unlike the man that he knew. Of course, that wasn't the case at all – the family that Holmes was trying to find a missing jewel-case for had several children, and Holmes was loath to enter the house alone.

But Watson would have been surprised at the intensity Holmes had combed old editions of the _London Medical Journal_ for Ava's work. Holmes had not read them all, originally not seeing the connection between her work and his.

Holmes grew more intrigued by her mind the more he read. She was logical, thorough, and documented her findings well, being eloquent with her words. The years of being excluded from society had allowed her to develop a methodology on par to his own.

There was some consolation in that, Holmes thought as he put is pipe down and stared into the coal of his now-dwindled fire. To be free of society's eye…Holmes himself was much sought after in society circles, and had to nearly be a recluse in order to not be bothered by them. But no one sought out Ava Grace. Her brilliance was only acknowledged in medical journals. Holmes had not taken the liberty to re-examine his case files or the newspaper archives of 15 years ago. He had never stood for gossip. And he dismissed his study of her research as nothing more than wanting to completely understand her results when she called upon him. And possibly of missing Watson. There was always that.

Dr. Reed's letter came a week and a half after they had dropped off the larva.

"Mr. Holmes," the letter read. "If you would be so kind as to inform Dr. Watson that I have your results, I would find it convienent for you to call upon the house at 2pm tomorrow. Please respond by post if this will be acceptable."

Holmes quickly wrote another letter to Watson and had it hand-delivered. The reply was short:

"Holmes," the note read. "Mary is ill with a fever, and I am reluctant to leave her. Please pay Ava my respects."

Holmes nearly grimaced. And then was surprised at himself. Watson had a family, Holmes knew this would happen. But there was something else, though he couldn't place his finger on it. Oh, well, he shrugged it off and wrote another letter to Dr. Reed confirming their appointment for tomorrow.

The carriage stopped in front of the brick house. Holmes rang the bell to have it opened by the maid that had taken his hat last time, not Roger, the butler/bodyguard. The man made sense to Holmes, now, even knowing the little Watson was willing to tell. No woman would ever go out alone again after such an event.

"Mr. Holmes to see Dr. Reed."

The maid bobbed a curtsy. "This way, please, sir." She took his hat and coat and led him to a different room than before. It was a comfortable sitting room, with a large fireplace. Dr. Reed at a chair before it, so intent on a monograph in her hands that she apparently did not hear them come in, as she made no movement. The oil-lamp lit her short amber hair with a glow, and intelligence could be seen on her face, with a calm that had not been there at their last meeting, making it, in Holmes' opinion, much more attractive. Not that that mattered, Holmes thought, annoyed at himself.

"Thank you Sarah. Hello Dr. W-" she stopped as she looked up. Her eyes widened as she tried to conceal her surprise, and stood up from the chair. "Where's Dr. Watson?"

"He is tending his ill wife." Holmes explained. "I'm sorry I did not convey that information in my letter, but he has told me to pay his respects." Her behavior was markedly different than a week ago. Holmes' mouth did even quirk once, for he was certain he understood her alarm.

Ava glanced down at the magazine she was holding. She laid it down on the table. Holmes could now see that it was a copy of his monograph of the electrical properties of honey! The thought gratified him immensely, though he managed to hide it completely.

"Well, then. I shall just have to explain things to you. Although I was hoping to ask for some particulars of the case as to seal my interpretation of the larva hatching."

Holmes' noticed the almost imperceptible tremor in her hands that she stilled through force of will alone.

He looked away, giving her a chance to collect herself without his notice. "Of course. I am at your disposal, Dr. Reed. I would be grateful, however, to be permitted to see your lab, if possible."

She paused, looking up at him. She glanced back to the magazine, and seemed to make a decision, nodding her head. "Very well. Please, follow me."

She led him upstairs. Holmes observed her as she walked. It was his habit, nothing more, but the odd swish of her dress caught his eye and his ear. It took Holmes but a moment longer to realize that the sound of cloth he heard was not her dress, but trousers she must be wearing underneath the dress. His eyes, for once, bespoke of sadness as he began to truly realize the total agony this woman must be living through.

The lab was a large room that struck Holmes as having been the nursery now converted to the study of science. There was ample light from the large windows, and several tables laden with what seemed to be every type of glass container known, most of them filled with some liquid. There were several petri dishes with molds growing.

In one large glass container was 20 to 30 small beetles crawling around. "I would like to ask where the body was found," Ava said, a little fast to Holmes' ear as he closed the door behind them.

"At a farm just outside of the city. Dr. Watson is known to the inspector there, and so he called him in."

Ava was inspecting the beetles with an intensity that struck Holmes. He came closer, simply to see the beetles that had hatched from Dr. Watson's larvae.

"But please, continue, Dr. Reed. Why does it matter where the body was found?"

"Because these beetles were poisoned, Mr. Holmes."

"Ah ha!" Holmes cried, knowing that he had now solved why there seemed to be a discrepancy between the decay of the body and when the body was found.

Ava gasped at his voice, and the jar slipped from her fingers, only to be caught by the quick reflexes of Sherlock Holmes.

The look on Ava's face was one of shear fright. Her hands shook visibly now. She struggled to control herself. Holmes did not attempt to comfort her, as he might have any other "lady in distress". This was completely new to him, and he was slightly afraid of doing more harm than good. They stared at each other silently.

Ave tried deperatley to collect herself. "I'm sorry, Mr. Holmes. You surprised me. Thank you," she said as he handed back the beetle jar. "I have not been alone with another man besides Roger since my father died, and I must admit to being rather nervous."

"Then where is Roger?" Holmes asked.

"I sent him on a business errand for me. Normally, I do not leave the house, and this matter was urgent. I was confident that I would not feel….uncomfortable….around Dr. Watson."

"And as for me?" Holmes asked quietly.

Ava had not turned her back to him, a gesture that Holmes found admirable. She would face her fear at all costs. "I must believe that any friend of Dr. Watson's is honorable. Though I have not had much experience with honorable men." She paused, raising her chin slightly. "I assume that Dr. Watson explained my history to you?"

"No." Holmes said softly. "He explained nothing that was not already in my case files."

Ava lowered he head. "I knew he was honorable." A tear glistened in her eye. "Most others, I find, carry with them a sick fascination for the suffering of others."

"My only interest in the past, Dr. Reed, is that I was unable to see justice served." Holmes looked away briefly, a deep frown on his lips. "I was consulted by the police in your case."

"You cannot find the devil, Mr. Holmes." Ava stated, surprising Holmes.

"You believe in the devil, Dr. Reed?"

"I believe in the devil in all men, Mr. Holmes," Ava's mask returned.

The weeks went by. Cases were solved, tobacco was smoked, and Watson even came over just to sit and have a drink a time or two.

But Holmes' mind wandered back to Ava. He found himself worrying that she was well. He sent a thank you note for her help with the case, and she sent a courteous reply. But even that did not quell Holmes' disquiet.

No, there was something wrong. Holmes sat for hours, smoking his pipe, dissecting what he knew and what he had seen. He could only come to one inescapable conclusion: it was not simply Ava's past that frightened her. Something, or someone, was frightening her _now._


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: This chapter is a bit short, but as the next chapter is going to be a bit longer, I thought it would be good to break it up here. Please review!

It took Watson several months to realize that a change had come over Holmes. He seemed unusually distracted. Watson had asked him if he was on a case, to which he received a negative response. But this mood was different than Holmes' previous black moods when he had nothing to do. Watson couldn't put his finger on it, but it seemed to him that Holmes had something on his mind.

He had dined with Holmes one evening, anxious to make sure that his friend was taking in _some_ nourishment. They sat opposite the fire, drinking brandy, in the comfortable silence of old friends.

Holmes stared into the flames, red tongues of heat reflecting in his hazel eyes."You should invite Ava to one of those infernal dinner parties of yours, Watson. She would be better company than most of the vapid nonsense you usually invite."

"My very thought, Holmes! I will do so straight away!" Watson paused, several thoughts occurring to him at once. "Do you actually think she would come?"

"Yes, coming from you. She spoke very well of you the last time we met, as if you were the last honorable man on earth." Holmes stood up quickly and strode to the window.

Watson gazed at his friend, trying to piece together what was going on. If Holmes was any other man, Watson would say Holmes was – no, that was ridiculous, Watson thought. He must be imagining things! Holmes could be jealous of no man when it came to a woman!

After consulting with Mary, Watson sent an invitation off to Ava Grace, and, of course, to Holmes. He confided in Mary his odd suspicion. Mary's eyes lit up with happiness and mischievousness. She shared Watson's concern and affection for the detective.

"And we shall have to be extra careful whom we invite. I will not have Ava embarrassed by some rude comment." Mary stated emphatically. "In fact, we should think of this as Ava Reed's coming out party, and only invite the best people. I think, a few more people than normal, perhaps?" Mary relished such things.

Ava Grace sat down slowly as she read the invitation. She remembered Dr. Watson's kindness, remembered his fury directed at her attackers. When she thought of how horrible people were, she had reminded herself of him. And now she had another: Sherlock Holmes.

She handed the invitation to Roger wordlessly. His eyes scanned the paper quickly, and narrowed to slits as he thought through the implications.

"It is a dangerous thing," he said simply.

"Perhaps. But am I to always be a pisioner in my own house?" Ava asked.

"There is another angle, my lady. We could seek to force their hand. Hasty people make mistakes."

Ava looked at Roger with a cold gilt in he eye. "Yes. And we will not make such mistakes, will we?"

Ava's reply to the Watson's might have seemed unusual coming from anyone else.

"Dear Mrs. and Dr. Watson,

I am quite honored at your invitation. I believe you will understand if I ask to bring my valet.

Yours Truly,

Ava Gave Reed"

Mary passed the letter to her husband. "Splended!" he said. "You aren't offended that she should wish to bring a protector?"

"How can I be?" she asked. "I cannot imagine her suffering. That she is even willing to come here seems to me to more brave than I would be in her circumstances."

"I will make sure Holmes comes, and behaves himself. He may not even be aware of his…feelings." Watson looked up at Mary with an incredulous look.

"Sherlock Holmes, with feelings!" she said with a smile. "What wonderful things thave happened since you married me!" They laughed together.

"Holmes," the letter began. "I have done as you suggested and invited Ava Reed to a dinner party on the 17th. I do hope that you will attend."

Holmes threw the letter down dramatically and pulled the curtain aside slightly to peer onto the street, lost in thought.


	4. The dinner party

A/N: Sorry for the delay. This chapter took me longer than I thought it would to write. Please read and tell me if you think it goes too slow, is too complicated, or doesn't pack enough emotional punch. Developing Holmes is complicated! :D

The doorbell rang. The Watsons' servant maid, Molly, ran for it. She had been at the other side of the house preparing for the guest to arrive in an hour and hadn't been expecting anyone. The man at the door smirked at her somewhat for her stare.

"Mr. Holmes!" she declared, astonished.

"Good afternoon, my dear Molly. Please be so kind at to tell the doctor and Mrs. Watson that I have arrived?" He brushed past her and then turned around quickly, handing her his coat, hat, and cane.

Watson came down the stairs at the sound of the doorbell. "Holmes!" he exclaimed, delighted, "You came!" Holmes was splendidly dressed in his best tuxedo. Holmes gave a small, mischievous smile to his friend, obviously gratified at his friend's reaction to his presence.

"I must admit, Watson that I wished to be here early to watch your guests arrive." He actually only wanted to watch one guest arrive, but he kept that caveat to himself.

"Of course, Holmes! Please, the house is yours. I have to finish dressing, but is there anything you need?"

"No, my dear Watson, I'm sure that Molly can get anything if I do."

Holmes found himself a drink in Watson's library and settled down to wait. He suspected that Ava and Roger would arrive early as well. Holmes had had no need of Watson confidentially informing him of Ava's request to bring a "valet." He had expected it from the moment that Watson had told him he had invited her. Roger was a second pair of eyes to a dangerous game that was being played out.

And so it was that they were the second party to arrive, though not as early as Holmes might have hoped. He heard her in the hall, greeting Mrs. Watson.

"It is very nice to meet you, Mrs. Watson. Thank you very much for your kind invitation."

"You are most welcome, Dr. Reed. I am so pleased that you've come."

"I do have one request that I hope you will not find too odd or exceptional, Mrs. Watson," Ava began, looking sideways at Roger standing slightly behind her on her side.

"Not at all, please ask."

"Would you be so kind as to allow my valet Roger to mix with your own servants?" Ava asked quietly. Her cheeks grew a little warm. "I would consider it a personal favor."

"Of course!" Mary said easily. "But then you must agree to call me Mary if we are to be sharing servants!" she joked lightly. Ava smiled shyly, and nodded. "I think that would be well. I gave Dr. Watson leave to call me Ava Grace years ago; I do wish you would do the same."

Holmes smirked at the cleverness of it. Coming early enough, Roger could mix in with the other servants as to be undetected by the other guests, and secretly observe them, thus providing protection for his mistress.

"Mr. Holmes has already arrived. He is in the library, if you would like to join him while I show Roger the kitchen?"

Ava's eyes widened slightly, betraying feelings that Mary could tell Ava herself was not quite aware of yet. "Oh, is Mr. Holmes here? I did not realize he came to such social events," she said casually.

Mary smirked, woman to woman. "No, not often, but occasionally he graces up with his presence. Though I must admit, he is a horrible dinner guest!" They both laughed pleasantly.

Holmes retreated from the door as Ava came down the hall. "Dr. Reed," he bowed politely as she entered.

"Mr. Holmes," Ava inclined her head. He tried not to react at her appearance. She was in a long silk dress the color of champagne, clinging slightly to her figure that made one realize that she _had _a figure. It enhanced the color of her deep blue eyes, but that wasn't the most extraordinary aspect of her appearance. Long, honey-blond hair was plaited atop her head, perfectly accenting the dress and her eyes. It was obviously a wig, but for a moment, Holmes was entranced.

"Would you care for a glass of sparkling cider, Dr. Reed?" Holmes asked, somewhat awkwardly. He really had no idea what woman drank at such things.

She looked at the short table where Holmes had laid his glass. "What you are drinking will suit me well, Mr. Holmes," Ava said simply. Holmes was a little startled, but hid it well as he poured another glass of brandy. Most women of the upper classes did not drink hard liquor.

More people began to arrive. Their voices could be heard in the hallway, coming closer. Ava took a quick drink from her glass, but otherwise showed no outward sign of her thoughts. Holmes smiled inwardly. "I was most interested in your last article, Dr. Reed," he began conversationally. "How many types of beetles have you actually studied?"

Gratefulness showed in Ava's eyes as she focused on a topic she knew well. They talked until the other guest made their way inside the room. In a few moments the room was full. Ava crept slowly closer to Holmes, quite subconsciously, as Mary made the introductions. The Watsons had invited about 16 people, but only 12 had accepted. Holmes deduced that the larger than normal guest list was an attempt to not make Ava stand out.

Though she did, anyway. As introductions were made, it could be seen that almost everyone in attendance new the name Ava Grace Reed. People are curious busybodies by nature, but the strict Victorian atmosphere held, and so did the wagging tongues. Holmes almost felt the need to close his eyes, the intensity of information leaking from these people made thinking difficult.

The Watsons' housekeeper appeared in the doorway. "Dinner is served, madam," she stated to Mary. Holmes breathed a sigh of relief, and left Ava squeeze his arm sympathetically. Mary turned, placing her arm with her husband's. As if on cue, Holmes moved his arm to accept Ava's hand he felt slide through, with no question needing to be asked. "Please, this way," as they guided their guests to dinner. Despite the unfamiliar setting, and a beautiful woman on his arm, Holmes actually felt relaxed.

Holmes had never been so gregarious, Watson decided. His friend ate, drank, and talked about a myriad of subjects with gusto. Ava spoke infrequently, on topics that she knew well - giving some of the guests pause, as woman usually were not conversant on the subjects of medicine and biology. The intensity of Ava's attention put them off as well, it being the fashion for ladies not to seem to pay attention to anything considered "men's work".

But Holmes only became even more talkative as her subtly drew Ava out. Watson smiled warmly, knowing that to those who knew him well, it could be seen that Holmes found Ava Grace the most intelligent and interesting person at the table. Including Watson. Which, thought Watson inwardly, bothered him not in the slightest.

Holmes himself could only marvel. Ava's demeanor Mary have been "mannish" by the standard of most of those at the table, but to Holmes they were reasonable, rational, and downright charming. Of course, he would never admit that to anyone, especially himself. But in his mind, she was like a finely honed blade – beautiful on the surface, but powerful and unbreakable underneath.

Dinner was drawing to a close. "I propose a walk in the garden," Mary announced, and everyone gladly accepted. This was not, perhaps, proper protocol, as the women normally retired to the drawing room to let the men smoke, but Mary thought that might not be a good plan in this situation. Ava obviously preferred the company of Sherlock Holmes, and Mary was going to keep Ava comfortable, protocol be damned!

Holmes helped Ava from her chair. Few words had been spoken between them during dinner, and yet, they seemed to have an understanding that belayed the few short months that they had known each other. Much like his relationship with Watson, a thought drifted through Holmes' mind.

The garden was pleasant as they walked arm in arm, someone separate from the other guests admiring Mrs. Watson's roses. "And what do you think of our fellow dinner guests?" Holmes asked conspiratorially, interested in Ava's powers of observation outside the lab.

"General Lamb will die within six months," Ava said bluntly.

Holmes looked over the general thoroughly. "And how did you come to this conclusion?"

"By several things. His rate of breathing and slightly flushed complexion tell of uncontrolled high blood pressure. But if you look at his feet, you see that they are swollen, which is another sign of poor circulation. And he has obviously not been listening to his doctor, who has in all probability told him to stop drinking alcohol. Taken together, he will suffer from a heart attack within the next several months."

Holmes was amazed. He had never thought to extend his science of deduction to medical matters, but it would seem that Ava had been doing it for years. "And our other guests?" Holmes asked, eager to learn more about the mind in front of him.

Ava's eyes twinkled. "That hardly seems fair, Mr. Holmes," she said. "You must now give me your opinion of them."

"A challenge, then?" Holmes looked her in the eye, a smile playing on his lips. "Well, then, as to the good Dr. Rolens, he has recently returned from a trip that his wife knew of, but obviously does not know that he met his mistress on said trip."

Ava's eyebrows rose. "And you have evidence of this, Mr. Holmes?" she said, trying her best to keep the skepticism out of her voice. "Or have you simply guessed from the man's age and wealth?"

"Guessing is for the week-minded, Dr. Reed. No, it is simply a case of correctly interpreting the observed. I overheard Mrs. Rolens asking her husband about the tie when they came in. She had not bought it for him. It is a rather fashionable tie, to which he stated he had bought it on his trip to Athens. Mrs. Rolens obviously knew about that trip, from her reaction. Now, during dinner, the doctor stated that he "hated department stores." This allows me to deduce that someone else bought the tie for him. And as he was unwilling to state that person's name to his wife, I therefore conclude it was his mistress."

Ava looked down at her feet, lost in thought. "Roger could use instruction such as that," she said quietly. Her grip on Holmes' arm seemed to tighten.

"I would be honored to introduce the steps to him," Holmes said gravely, almost able to hear her thoughts. Whatever game this was was dangerous; the people playing with Ava's life, deadly.

"You must start with the observation that everyone lies, Dr. Reed. All else follows."

She looked up at him, contemplating this line. She nodded, satisfied that he understood.

They said little else the rest of the evening, except for a courteous good-bye as Ava's carriage drove off with her and Roger. Holmes started after it for a moment, and then took his leave of the Watson home rather brusquely.


End file.
